


Heading Straight For You

by meansgirl



Series: Missing Scenes [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8562829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meansgirl/pseuds/meansgirl
Summary: "As far as Jack knows, he wasn’t in love with Bitty the day he ran across campus and kissed him for the first time."





	1. Jack - With your loving

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this fic because I have spent untold numbers of hours contemplating what those missing moments between Goodbye for the Summer II and WAG must have been like. In this first part: Jack's POV - What it feels like to be stupidly in love (even if you don't know it).
> 
> Also! I am in search of a beta! Let me know if you're interested, y'all!

As far as Jack knows, he wasn’t in love with Bitty the day he ran across campus and kissed him for the first time. Graduation Day. It’s funny, Jack has never thought of that day as the day he graduated college. That happened, but the second his hands landed on Bitty’s arms and he dipped down to press their lips together, in his head it became: The Day I Kissed Eric For The First Time. 

 

Even before they kiss for a second time, almost a month later, Jack thinks of it as the First Time, capital letters and everything. Jack is used to having a one-track mind focused purely on his game but he transitions shockingly easily, on the day he graduates from Samwell, to  something different. Suddenly, he has another person he wants to consider. Before he even gets to the car with his parents that day, Jack is thinking ahead. He’s wondering how he can work around Bitty’s schedule, calculating travel time between Providence and Samwell. It doesn’t even occur to Jack not to think about a future that involves Bitty. 

 

But, as far as he knows, Jack wasn’t in love with him yet. 

 

*

 

They don’t Skype until the next night. They text, between the moment Jack flies out the door of the Haus to get back to his parents, and the moment the Skype chimes sound on his laptop over 24 hours later. 

 

The first text he sends Bitty is:  _ Sorry.  _ The second is:  _ Not for kissing you. For having to leave like that. _

 

The first text Bitty sends back is:  _ It’s okay. So that really happened? _

 

Jack couldn’t force the smile off his face. He tried, knowing he must look weird, but he just kept smiling -- secretly, to himself, his head ducked down to read the screen of his phone. His mother shot him confused, cautiously pleased glances. His father, embarrassingly,  _ winked  _ at him. 

 

But it was impossible to Skype that night. They were both on planes - Jack to Montreal for one last week “living at home,” before he moved permanently into the apartment in Providence; and Bitty to Georgia. Before his group is called, Jack sends Bitty a text:  _ Getting ready to board. Talk to you soon? _

 

Bitty replies:  _ I land at 8:30.  _

 

That’s it. And then, another text:  _ I miss you already. _

 

_ Miss you too, _ Jack taps out, and then his boarding group is being called. 

 

The next morning Jack has a late breakfast with his parents, goes for a long walk, unpacks the few things he didn’t have shipped to the apartment, tries to take a nap at his mother’s insistence because, she says, this is his time to relax. 

 

He can’t relax, so he texts Bitty:  _ Are you up yet? _

 

Bitty:  _ I’ve been up for hours, it’s NOON.  _

 

Jack huffs a laugh, types:  _ I know how you like to sleep in. _

 

Bitty:  _ Just because we don’t all enjoy getting up at 5 in the damn morning! What are you doing now?  _

 

Jack:  _ My mom wants me to take a nap, but I can’t. Can we do the video chat thing? _

 

Bitty:  _ YES. But later? I’m at Moomaw’s and we’re about to start on the pies for her senior group luncheon tomorrow.  _

 

Jack:  _ I’m free all day. Just let me know when you’re home. I still miss you.  _

 

Bitty replies to that with a little blushing smiley-thing. Jack laughs to himself and does, eventually, fall asleep for a little while. 

 

When they finally do Skype, it’s after dinner. Jack is changing into a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt when the Skype ringer goes off. He nearly brains himself on the corner of his desk hurrying into his clothes and flinging himself across the room to answer. 

 

He’s still standing, bent over his desk, when Bitty’ s face resolves on the screen. He looks the same as he did a little more than 24 hours ago, but he’s in his childhood bedroom which Jack has never seen before. He ignores that; he can subtly catalog the background later. Bitty is smiling, a little nervously, sitting with his back to a window. He’s wearing a teal tanktop, his hair is a little mussed, and he has a hand by his mouth, like he’s trying not to bite his nails.

 

“Hi,” Bitty says.

 

Jack has never felt like this before, not once in his life, and for a moment it bowls him over. His heart skips as though readying itself for a panic attack. But he opens his mouth and says, softly, softer than he knew he could say  _ anything,  _ “Hey.”

 

They stare at each other dumbly through their screens. Jack watches Bitty’s eyes scanning him, watches him force his hand down, watches him bite his lip. He looks so  _ nervous _ , so Jack decides to fix that and takes a deep breath. 

 

“So,” he says, “I want to start off by saying, it was probably a bad idea for me to kiss you like that.” 

 

For a moment, Bitty’s face seems on the verge of collapse. And then, in the next moment, it smooths out, he opens his mouth, and Jack realizes what he just  _ did _ , God, he’s so  _ stupid. _

 

“No!” He drops down into his desk chair and leans desperately toward his laptop. “I don’t mean-- Shit. Bits. I don’t mean that. I told you yesterday I’m not sorry I kissed you. But-- But now I’m in a different  _ country  _ and… well. I don’t know if I should have, ah, kissed you sooner necessarily but… I just wish, I wish we weren’t so far apart, because… Because all I can think about is kissing you again. That’s. Um. That’s what I meant.”

 

While Jack has been talking, Bitty’s face has undergone the most amazing transformations. By the time Jack shuts himself up, Bitty is smiling, and it’s gorgeous. Jack must have known how beautiful Bitty was before this moment, but it feels like maybe he’s been missing something and just figured it out, anyway. 

 

“Oh,” Bitty says. “I- Well.”

 

“Sorry,” Jack sighs. “I’m not good at talking. You know that.”

 

“You do alright,” Bitty tells him, his head tilting and his expression fond. “So. I want to start off by saying, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, and I’m so,  _ so _ glad you kissed me. But I have to ask, Jack,  _ what _ ? Because I thought - well. I didn’t know you liked, um, men? Or me? Like that.”

 

Jack nods. “I guess I’ve never given you any reason to think I like men. But I, uh, do? I mean, I’ve um… It’s a lot to get into right now, but. I’ve dated both guys and girls, I guess you could say.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“And as for you? Bits, I… I think I’ve liked you like that for a while now, I just… Sometimes I’m a little slow about these things.”

 

Jack had looked away from the screen to his own hands, picking at a hangnail, but he glances up after a moment of silence. Bitty is looking at him, curiously, softly, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

 

“Oh, honey,” Bitty murmurs, and Jack feels something in his chest grow lighter at the endearment. He  _ likes _ that, so much, he wants Bitty to say that again, but Bitty is talking now, saying, “That’s okay. I’m surprised, you know? But I’m… I’m so happy. What- Jack, what happens next?”

 

And Jack laughs out loud, shrugs his shoulders, and says, “Whatever we want, Bits.”

 

*

 

The idea of Jack visiting Madison for the weekend of July 4th is brought up during that first conversation. They Skype every single night after that, and they talk about everything. Hockey, of course. But Bitty gives him a tour of his house one day, carrying his iPad with him. Bitty’s mom calls hello and waves over her shoulder with a paintbrush while she refinishes something Bitty calls a “highboy,” and Bitty shows him a pie cooling on a rack, the back yard, his room with its samwell pendants and figure skating trophies and Beyonce posters. One night Jack Skypes Bitty from the back deck of his parents’ house and Bitty takes his laptop out to the “veranda” at his house and they talk about childhood summers. They talk about everything, and Jack feels differently every time, and every time he has never felt  _ quite that way _ ever before. He feels hot and cold and shaky and steady all at once and he thrills with it. 

 

The night before Jack is scheduled to fly out to Georgia for the big visit, he Skypes Bitty from his bed and says, “Bits, I can’t wait.”

 

Bitty grins, wide, “Me, either, honey.”

 

Jack falls asleep that night by sheer force of will, his nerves jumping in the best way, the way they would the night before Christmas when he was small. He knows if he doesn’t sleep he won’t be at his best when he lands in Georgia, won’t be ready to see Bitty, and so he closes his eyes, gives himself a pep talk, and drifts off full of possibility and anticipation and this unnameable feeling beneath his ribs. 

 


	2. Eric- There ain't nothing I can't adore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second part is from Bitty's POV. I don't know why, but when I write from Bitty's perspective I feel the need to call him Eric. Anyone else? No? Yes.
> 
> Any who... on to part two. I have at least two more parts ready to post soon, and then will have a little more time to work on the section covering Providence :)

Eric has been in love with Jack for a long time. He knows that, and he thinks Jack might have some inkling of it, but he’s never sure. Sometimes he hopes Jack is completely ignorant of it. After all, Jack likes him but it’s awfully soon to bring things like love to the table and Eric shies away from even the thought of overwhelming this new thing they have with the total truth of his own feelings. 

 

But it’s just a fact that Eric can accept - that he loves Jack already, loved him before graduation day and only loves him more now that they’re so together despite being in different countries for weeks now. It would scare the everliving hell out of him if he stopped to really think about it, but instead he bakes and goes to work at the summer camp and Skypes Jack every single night and bites down hard on his tongue at the end of every conversation. 

 

Despite the light feeling in his chest, and even though Jack has been more than reassuring in the dozens of conversations they’ve had, Eric still has a hard time believing the kiss on graduation day was real, and is on some level waiting for the other shoe to drop. He can come up with an endless number of scenarios where this thing with Jack ends. Jack finds his youtube channel and is completely creeped out by Eric’s obvious crush on him. Jack starts the season and realizes he can’t have Eric dragging him down. Jack meets someone else. Jack sees Parse, at a game, or at some event, and decides -- well, Eric doesn’t know what exactly happened between them but something did, and it’s Kent Parson, and Eric is Eric Bittle. He can’t compete with that if it ever gets started up again, so…

 

He has been trying hard to rein himself in for all of June, but July begins and Eric can’t help but let the excitement take over.

 

He wakes on the morning of July 3rd and for the first time probably in his entire life, springs out of bed. It’s 7am, and he could skate at top speed for three hours straight and take a hundred checks without flinching, he’s just that wired. 

 

His mother notices his mood when he bounds into the kitchen for a thermos of coffee after his shower and a not-insignificant amount of time spent on his hair.

 

“Excited, Dicky?” She drawls, one eyebrow raised. “Fixing to go pick up Jack from the airport?”

 

Eric spoons sugar into his thermos and says, very casually, “Yep. Yes ma’am.”

 

“Well be careful driving, baby,” Mama says, handing him a scone wrapped in a napkin.

 

“I will,” he says, still aiming hard for casual, “Gonna stop for gas and water, drop that rhubarb pie off to Mrs. Lenehan, and be on my way.”

 

“Good boy.” 

 

The night before, as he struggled to sleep, Eric had figured the hour-long drive to Atlanta would take forever. But, it turns out, blasting the radio as loud as it’ll go and buzzing on his mother’s industrial-strength coffee, the ride goes by in no time. He makes it to Hatsfield-Jackson by 9, and Jack doesn’t land for another thirty minutes. Eric knows the flight is on time, because Jack texted him a “boarding now” right on schedule and he’s checked the arrivals list obsessively since the moment he woke up. Now, with half an hour to kill alone in his father’s old pick-up truck, Eric stares at his phone.

 

“Well, shit,” he says to the quiet cab. 

 

*

 

But he rallies and decides to just breathe calmly for fifteen minutes, then make his way to arrivals. At 9:30 he knows Jack’s plane has landed. His foot taps impatiently, he tightens his arms where they’re crossed, glances around blankly for something to look at. He lets his hands swing at his sides, clears his throat, debates checking his breath, because Lord, wouldn’t it be embarrassing if he had stale coffee breath? --but he had a mint so, it’s probably fine-- shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts, takes them out, worries at his lip, shifts his weight, and then -- 

 

“Bits?”

 

Eric turns and there is Jack, a little travel-rumpled, as tall as he was last Eric saw him, as handsome --more handsome-- , wearing a Falconers snapback and the smile Eric has come to recognize as Jack’s real one - a little nervous, a little shy, but real. 

 

“Hey,” Eric breathes, and then has no idea what he wants to say next, doesn’t know how to move. 

 

Jack moves for him, taking two strides forward and resting his hands on Eric’s forearms. It’s so like that moment just before they kissed for the first and only time that Eric’s heart stutters in his chest with anticipation. But his brain kicks into overdrive and he glances around at the crowd surrounding them.

 

“Um-” He starts, and Jack seems to snap to awareness, realizing the source of Eric’s hesitation. 

 

“It’s okay,” Jack murmurs, “I can get a hug, can’t I?”

 

And Eric suddenly thinks he might burst into tears, feels the prickle at his lids and the heat in his cheeks. “Yes,” he chokes, “Of course you can.”

 

Jack nods and pulls him in and his duffle bag gets in the way and Eric nearly drops the truck keys which he hadn’t realized he’d still been fiddling with, but their arms wrap around each other and it’s so good. It’s real, and it’s not unlike the hug Eric gave Jack thinking it would be the last time he saw him, but this time Eric feels no shame in subtly breathing in the scent of Jack’s aftershave, in savoring the sensation of Jack’s chest pressed up close. 

 

They pull back too soon for Eric’s liking, just in time for propriety’s sake. 

 

“Do you have another bag?” Eric asks.

 

“This is it,” Jack replies, shrugging with the strap of his duffel.

 

“Great,” Eric says, smiling through the blush he knows is blazing across his cheeks. “Come on, let’s get to the truck. And no chirps, it’s my dad’s.”

 

Jack chuckles and follows.

 

*

 

In the truck, Jack’s bag tossed in the bed, engine turned over, radio hastily turned down from the ear-shattering decibel Eric had had going on his way here, they stare at each other for a moment before Eric can’t help but laugh.

 

“This is ridiculous,” he says. “I feel like I’m on a blind date.”

 

Jack snorts, “Yeah. Sorry. Look - let’s just be… normal, eh?”

 

“Yes,” Eric breathes, “Thank you. Yes. Let’s just be normal.”

 

Jack nods, but he’s still staring, and Eric is too because, Lord.

 

“Alright,” Eric says, “But first, can I just -”

 

“Yes.”

 

Eric nods, pointlessly, and leans across the gear shift and finally kisses Jack, slips his hand around the back of this gorgeous, ridiculous boy’s head, and kisses him.

 

It’s more than he could have ever imagined it would be, and Eric has imagined it a lot. He can’t bring himself to focus on the details of what the kiss is, who moves or who presses in or what he does with his own hands, but the feeling is an explosion. Eric presses his mouth to Jack’s and feels a minor disaster take place in his heart, feels his head go light. 

 

Someone does move, someone does press in, Eric finds both his hands have ended up on Jack’s face. Their lips lock, pull away, meet again, and then Eric lets his mouth fall open a little and sweet Jesus, Jack’s tongue is there, teasing Eric’s and then very quickly after that, they are making out in Eric’s father’s grimy old Chevy and it is outstanding, not that Eric has all that much to compare it to. 

 

Eric finally pulls away to catch his breath, practically holding onto the back of Jack’s neck for dear life, and presses their foreheads together.

 

“Okay,” he says. “So it really is real. This is really real.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack nods, bumping their noses. “It’s real. I can’t believe it either, but it is.”

 

“Great,” Eric giggles. “Good.”

 

“Good,” Jack repeats, and then he kisses Eric one more time before tearing away and sitting up and facing forward. “We have to get out of here or we’re never going to get to Madison.”

 

Eric stares at the side of Jack’s face for a long moment, dazed, imagining all the things they could do in this truck in this parking garage to delay them from ever going to Madison where Eric’s parents are waiting, oh god. 

 

“Right,” Eric says. “Let’s go.”

 

*

 

They spend the drive back to Madison talking, and it’s easy, the heat of the moment dissipating but not forgotten. Eric remembers with a jolt that Jack is his friend. All these weeks have been charged with whatever is between them since The Kiss, but their friendship is still there. They don’t need to catch each other up much, since they’ve been texting constantly and Skyping nightly. Eric rattles on about the plans for the next day, the picnic and the fireworks and the dinner his mother is fussing over. Jack asks questions, interjects with merciless chirps, smiles, and then after a while reaches over the covers Eric’s hand on the shifter with his own. 

 

They talk about their teammates- Holster’s instagram chronicle of his trip to meet Ransom at Niagara falls; Dex’s facebook pictures of his siblings; Nursey’s inscrutable tweets. It’s easy, and Eric feels himself lighten again, feels some of his fear and doubt recede. It’s Jack, he tells himself, and turns his hand to tangle their fingers together.

 

They’re getting into Madison proper when Eric flicks his eyes to Jack and says, “So uh… we talked about how things are here. I just… I wanted to make sure --”

 

“I know,” Jack says, low and calm and reassuring in a way he never could have been just a year ago. It still surprises Eric, this steadier Jack who gets him.”Your parents don’t know. No one here does. It’s okay, Bits. Of course it is.”

 

“Okay,” Eric says, and lets out a whoosh of air. “Thanks.”

 

Jack squeezes Eric’s hand before withdrawing his own. Eric knows that behind Jack’s soothing tone is another conversation, the one about who in Jack’s life knows about them, if any do, and all the reasons they would need to keep that number very, very small. But he has no time to dwell on it because soon they pull into Eric’s driveway and Eric has to start training his face into something bright and casual. 

 

“Ready?” He asks, throwing the truck into park. 

 

“Of course.”

 

“I mean, ready for my mother?” Eric presses, “Because she’s -- oh, she’s coming out here right now.”

 

Jack follow’s Eric’s quietly horrified gaze to where Suzanne Bittle is coming down the porch steps waving a tea towel and calling out to them. He laughs and punches Eric on the shoulder.

 

“Relax, Bittle,” he says, and it’s perfect in that moment, it settles Eric’s nerves and takes him instantly into the correct frame of mind. “Let’s go, we can’t keep my favorite of all the Bittles waiting.”

 

“Chirp, chirp, chirp,” Eric grumbles and follows Jack out of the truck.

 

*

 

“Mama, let the boy set his stuff down!” Eric shouts as much as he can get away with actually shouting at his mother as he herds Jack up the stairs to his room. Suzanne shushes him but hastily agrees that Jack must be tired and, Dickey, make sure you show him where the towels are and --

 

Eric shuts his bedroom door behind them and leans against it with a groan. Jack drops his bag and chirps, “Yeah, Dickey, where are the towels?”

 

“You, shut it.” Eric steps away from the door. “So, this is it. You’ve, um… well, you’ve seen my room.”

 

Jack looks around, nodding. “Yep. A lot, actually.” He turns his gaze back to Eric. “I don’t really need a tour, right?”

 

“N-no,” Eric stutters, a feeling of panicky anticipation settling in his stomach. “I suppose you don’t.”

 

“Can I please kiss you now?” Jack asks, moving forward, and Eric has only just begun to nod frantically when Jack reaches out and pulls him in by the wrist.

 

Eric told Jack last week during a Skype chat that he’s never kissed a boy in his parents’ house. That he had only kissed one boy in Georgia, and that had been horrible and involved a lot of slobber. This kiss blows that one (and the one at Winter Screw, the only other one Eric has to his name) right out of the water, and serves as an epic first for Eric’s childhood bedroom. 

 

When they pull away, Eric forces himself to take two steps away. “Jack. Listen.”

 

“Are you okay?” Jack’s face is so dear, Eric nearly lies and says yes, sure, he’s fine, just needs a little air. He aches with the need to keep this visit light and happy and easy, keep Jack’s eyes soft and attentive, not anxious, not ever-aware of the realities outside their two-person bubble. But Jack, weeks ago, asked Eric to be honest with him, and Eric promised, so -- 

 

“I’m okay,” Eric says. He reaches out and tangles his fingers with Jack’s. “I’m a little overwhelmed is all. I’m so happy you’re here and I can touch you. Jack, I’m still so surprised you want me to --”

 

“We talked about that.”

 

Eric rolls his eyes, blushes, and shuffles a little closer to look up into Jack’s face. His forehead is a little wrinkled with concern. Eric wants to reach up and smooth it out, but doesn’t for fear of distracting himself from saying what he needs to say. 

 

“Yes,” he says. “We did. I, um… I’ll get used to the fact that you want me back soon, I promise, but that’s not the point. I just want to say, let’s not put too much pressure on this weekend. Okay?”

 

Jack tugs on Eric’s hand, guides him a little closer so that their chests brush. “Bits… I’m just here to see you, we don’t have to do anything, you know, that you don’t want to do.”

 

And Eric has to giggle wildly at that because Sweet Jesus. “No, Jack, I don’t mean that. I mean. God,” he blushes so hard he has to tilt his face forward and hide it against Jack’s chest. “No, I’m not going to get into what I do and don’t want to do. With you. This weekend. Right now. In my freaking bedroom in my parents’ house no, we can’t talk about that right now.”

 

Jack laughs, chest vibrating against Eric’s cheek. “Okay. So?”

 

“I just know that pretty soon here you’re gonna be under a lot of pressure,” Eric says reasonably. “And I don’t want to be another source of that.”

 

Jack’s fingers tilt Eric’s face up by the chin and Eric blinks at the soft smirk he can now read as fond on Jack’s face. 

 

“Bits,” Jack sighs. “You’re not. Okay? We can have a long talk about my job before I go, if that’s what you want. We can figure it out. But right now I haven’t seen you in person in so long, and we have to go downstairs and eat lunch with your mother in a few minutes. Before we do that I want to… not talk about hockey. Okay?”

 

“Well,” Eric says, “I feel I should tweet this one. You, not wanting to talk about hockey? I never--mmph.”

 

Jack definitely pinches Eric right on the left asscheek as he smothers the rest of that chirp with another unbelievably epic kiss. 

 

Eric, distantly, wonders if every kiss will shatter the world like all of Jack’s kisses have done; if they’re like that because Eric loves him and has for such a terribly long time now; if they’ll ever be commonplace. 

 

Jack pinches the other side and Eric gets with the program, winding his arms around Jack’s neck and kissing back. 

 

*

 

After lunch they head out back to set up the grill for the backyard picnic the next afternoon. 

 

“Bits?” Jack says, hanging the grill tools on their hooks while Eric hooks up the propane. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I want you to know that… It kind of seems like maybe you think this is just a fling or something.”

 

Eric freezes and blinks down at his fingers on the gas knob. “Oh?”

 

“Do you? Think that?”

 

Eric steels himself, tells himself to be a damn adult and look Jack in the face. So he does. And he has to draw in a sharp breath, because wow, that’s Jack’s watching-tape face. It’s his game-day face. It’s intense. And there it is, aimed at Eric. 

 

“Well,” he says, finally. “Fling probably isn’t the right word.”

 

“What is the right word?” Jack presses. “Is that what you want? Because maybe I misunderstood our talks or--”

 

“No!” Eric gets to his feet and leans forward with a nervous flick of his eyes to the kitchen window to check if his mother is watching. “I don’t want a fling, Jack. I didn’t think you did, either, I just know that there are so many things in your life, you know? Um. Hockey, obviously. The press that’ll come with that. People. Who might want your attention.”

 

“So?” Jack shrugs. “Bits, I… I’d like to be with you. I’d like you to… you know. Be with me back.”

 

Eric can’t help but smile down at his shoes. “Like--”

 

“Dickey! Y’all almost done out there?”

 

“Damn it,” he mutters, then to the kitchen window where his mother stands, “Yeah, mama! Be in in a sec!”

 

Jack comes around the grill and nudges their shoulders together. “Bits? This isn’t a fling. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Eric says, though he really would like to finish what he had been about to say. 

 

Like a boyfriend?

 

He saves it for later, and walks up to the back porch with Jack at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Jack's POV, and bed sharing!


	3. Jack - The way I'm running, with you, honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! This writer hasn't posted anything in years, and really appreciates all of it! 
> 
> The wonderful DoubleNegative offered to beta for me, and was indispensable with her assistance on this chapter. All remaining errors are, of course, my own.

Jack knows Bitty has liked him for a while. Had a crush, or whatever. He kind of thinks Suzanne Bittle knows that too, because she’s awfully winky-smiley at Jack in a knowing way. But that could also have something to do with her own crush on Jack’s  _ dad _ , which is not something he really wants to dwell on. Jack is pretty certain though that Mr. and Mrs. Bittle have no clue whatsoever that he and Bitty are dating. At least, nothing about their conversation at dinner the night he arrives in Georgia points to them having any idea. 

 

That night, Bitty is jumpy and flushed after they go for a long walk around the neighborhood. 

 

Bitty spent the walk babbling about the neighbors, about how he skinned his entire shin trying to do a toe loop on roller blades  around the corner, about the time Ms. Hanson crashed her car into the stop sign down the road trying to avoid hitting a squirrel. 

 

Jack is happy to listen and watch Bitty’s profile as he laughs at his own re-telling of the stories. He itches to reach out, take Bitty’s hand. If it weren’t for the fact that Bitty was not out at home, he would; no one knows Jack is in Madison and it’s pretty likely no one would know who he is even if they saw. Jack misses part of a story Bitty’s telling as he thinks, wistfully, that he might not hold Bitty’s hand in public for a very long time. Bitty looks at him expectantly, pausing for a reaction, and Jack shakes his head.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly. “I’m listening, just--”

 

“Oh!” Bitty turns back toward the way they had come. “Are you getting tired? Want to head back?”

 

Jack, standing in the Georgia twilight, makes a quick decision to stop thinking about the future for now, not get too distracted from the present, or color it with his worries. He learned to be better about that when it came to his career, he can apply it to this situation.   

 

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s do that.”

 

They end up taking turns showering in the hallway bathroom. Jack washes away the staleness of the airport and the stickiness of the Georgia heat, changes into his usual basketball shorts and t-shirt, and passes Bittle in the hall with an awkward smile and his dirty clothes held to his chest. While the shower turns back on, Jack sits on Bitty’s bed and runs his fingers over the quilt, over Señor Bun, and the sleeping iPad on the pillow. He casts his eyes around Eric Bittle’s bedroom and catalogs it to himself from this angle to pass the time. 

 

When Bitty comes back, he is pink from the hot water and his hair is wet. He is fussy with the items scattered across his desk, seems intent on rearranging things and, Jack realizes, not looking at Jack at all. 

 

“Bits?” Jack stands from his perch on the edge of the bed. Bitty fidgets almost convulsively, his hands hovering over his laptop, then going to hips, then dropping. 

 

“So, um,” Bitty scratches at the close-cut hair at the back of his head nervously, “mama put the air mattress under the bed, we just have to blow it up, it has a plug and just --”

 

“Bits.” Jack comes up behind Bitty and put hands on his hips. He leans down to kiss the join of Bitty’s neck and shoulder. “Relax.”

 

Bitty turns and finally looks at Jack. His eyes are wide and nervous. “We have to set it up, Jack. She expects us to.”

 

Jack gives Bitty’s hips a little squeeze. “I know. We can do that, and I can sleep on it. Like I said, we don’t have to do anything and you’re worrying me. You seem so nervous, and I don’t want you to think --”

 

“I want you to sleep with me,” Bitty blurts in hushed tones. He is so red, and it’s really cute and definitely chirp-able, but Jack wouldn’t dare. “I mean,” Bitty amends, “Sleep. Next to me. If you want. I can’t do...much… in here. With you. I just can’t. It’s--”

 

“It’s scary,” Jack whispers to Bitty’s forehead. “I know, I know. Don’t explain, you don’t have to. We talked about this, too.” 

 

They had, over Skype, discussed all the ways Eric was closeted when he was in Georgia, and all the ways he was terrified of  _ not  _ being closeted, the ways he didn’t ever want his parents to find out -- and that included having them overhear or walk in on anything. Bitty had said, specifically, that a scenario like that would be his  _ literal worst nightmare. _ And Jack understood it. 

 

He didn’t, so much, understand the fear of being outed. Sure, he had no intention of coming out publicly this early and he worried about being outed to the press and the public. But if that happened, he wasn’t afraid for his own safety, really. He wasn’t worried what his parents might think, because they already knew, and they hadn’t made much of a big deal out of Jack’s sexuality. The fear Bitty lived with was a kind of fear Jack wasn’t entirely familiar with. But fear, in general, and the icy feeling of anxiety in his veins,  _ that _ Jack could understand. And he had decided early on that he would do everything he could not to make Bitty feel that way. 

 

“We can kiss,” Bitty says now. “I want to touch you and I want you to touch me, but, we have to be so careful.”

 

“Okay,” Jack replies, and kisses Bitty on the forehead. “So let’s set up that air mattress, eh?”

 

*

 

They do set up the mattress, and then once they’ve said goodnight to Coach and Suzanne, climb over it and into Bitty’s bed. 

 

“No chirps for Señor Bun,” Bitty tells Jack, setting the rabbit on the side table. 

 

“I would never,” Jack says with a grin, bumping Bitty over a bit with his hip.

 

“Good,” Bitty says. Then he holds up his iPad. “So, there’s something I want to show you.”

 

“Yeah? What is it?”

 

Bitty sighs and blushes scarlet. “It’s embarrassing.”

 

“Come on,” Jack laughs, bumping their shoulders. “I promise not to chirp you too much,so what is it?”

 

Bitty pulls up Youtube on the tablet. “So, I’ve been really...I don’t know. I keep thinking of all the ways you and I won’t... well, work out.”

 

“Bits--”

 

“No, let me finish. We’ve already talked about some of the things that have been on my mind. Hockey, you know. The part where I thought you were straight.”

 

Jack chuckles. “Okay.”

 

“But… well. You know I have a video blog?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Have you ever… seen it?”

 

Jack shrugs. “It didn’t seem like you really wanted any of us looking for it. I’ve never tried to find it. Why?”

 

“Well,” Bitty taps on the iPad a couple of times. “I’ve been kind of worried that it might bother you if you ever saw it.”

 

“Because…?”

 

Bitty covers his face with one hand. “Lord, Jack.  _ Obviously _ I talked about you in it. I mean… at first some of the things I said weren’t so nice.”

 

Jack reaches out and gently takes Bitty’s hand from his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t so nice then. I can be okay with that.”

 

“Well… and… I don’t know. Can I just show you this one video? I can’t stop thinking about it, and I know you said you’ve never gone looking but, I’d rather you just see it now, and if it totally freaks you out… I don’t know. We’ll deal with that. Okay?”

 

Jack nods. “If that’s what you want, then yes. Show me.” He shuffles closer to Bitty and puts an arm around his shoulders. He doubts that Bitty could show him anything that would freak him out, but he doesn’t say so. Just tilts his head toward the iPad. “Go ahead.”

 

The video starts and Jack can’t help but smile. Bitty looks so different in this video than he does now, next to Jack. It’s after he cut his hair, but he’s more tan now, has more muscle to his frame, even seems a little taller. A little older. 

 

“Hey, you’re talking about me! And our food class,” Jack murmurs.

 

“Mmhmm,” Bitty agrees nervously.

 

Jack watches Bitty talk about him, and it’s a little weird, and he’s kind of surprised. “You liked taking that class with me, eh?” he says, and means it as a light chirp. But next to him Bitty goes even redder and shrugs in embarrassment so Jack squeezes his shoulders and stays quiet through the rest of the intro. It’s actually nice, the way Bitty talks about the project they did together. Jack loved taking that class, can still remember Bitty flicking flour at him and chirping him about the size of his ass, talking about his career prospects. Jack had cared so much about what Bitty thought, and in hindsight he should have realized then what that meant. 

 

Bitty pauses the video after it gets into a discussion of apple pie as a symbol of Americana. Jack makes a mental note to ask Bitty later if he can watch the rest of it. It’s Bitty smiling brightly and talking about pie and American History, so there’s a lot there that interests Jack, but he figures Bitty is on a particular mission right now and he shouldn’t interfere. Still, he makes the mental note. 

 

“Okay, and now the next one is kind of the one I wanted you to see, I just… I guess I wanted you to get the context.” he says, and clicks on another video. 

 

_ Hey y’all, back again with another vlog! _

 

Jack is still smiling, but his smile slowly fades as he takes in the Bitty in this next video. He looks  _ sad _ . Jack opens his mouth to say something, he isn’t sure what, maybe he was going to ask when the video was filmed, but then Bitty-on-the-screen covers his face with his hands and so does Bitty next to Jack.

 

_ Never fall for a straight boy. _

 

Bitty reaches out and pauses the video before the version of himself on the screen says anything else. His hands clench in his lap. “So yeah.”

 

Jack is completely thrown off. He is quiet for a moment, rewinding the last few minutes. Bitty thought this would freak him out, so that must mean…

 

“Bits. You liked me,” Jack says quietly. He wishes he knew how to explain the feeling in his chest to Bitty. It’s a strange mix of regret and pleasure, the weight of what he was missing just a couple months ago, and the awe, because he’s not missing it anymore. “Did you think that would bother me? I kind of. I mean, I didn’t  _ know _ , but in hindsight...”

 

“Ugh,” Bitty shakes his head. “It’s just so… isn’t it kind of weird that I talked about it on my vlog? Doesn’t it come off as kind of creepy?”

 

“Bittle,” Jack says seriously. “You’re kidding me.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Of course it doesn’t,” Jack says. He presses a kiss to Bitty’s forehead. “Bits, when did you do this video?”

 

Bitty makes a noise, a kind of groan mixed with a sigh, the noise he makes when he doesn’t want to talk about something because it’s uncomfortable and might be upsetting to someone. 

 

“Well it was around the time we were working on our project, and… and it was right before Epikegster.”

 

Jack experiences the strange sensation, not for the first time recently, of realizing he is a complete idiot when it comes to feelings. His, and anyone else’s. 

 

“Kent,” he says. “Oh. Wait. Shit.”

 

He can see Bitty’s face, he can hear himself offer to take a selfie. He’s always relegated that night to the box in his brain labeled  _ Parse _ , because of course in the end it had been pretty bad  _ because of _ Parse. But suddenly he can’t even recall what Kent looked like that night. 

 

“Yeah,” Bitty is saying. “So--”

 

“I should have taken that selfie,” Jack blurts. He takes Bitty’s fidgeting hand and stills it with his own. “Bitty, I should have kissed you that night. If Kent hadn’t-- I mean, I don’t know. I’m so bad at knowing where the lines are with people. I’m so bad at knowing even what I feel, sometimes, so maybe even if Kent had never shown up I would have gone upstairs, watched a documentary, gone to bed early just like I did at every other party. But maybe… I don’t know. I liked you then. I liked you in the kitchen making pie. I liked you at Annie’s. I liked you at checking practice. I just…”

 

“You’re just a little slow with this kind of thing,” Bitty finishes, and his eyes are big and shiny and looking up at Jack. 

  
So Jack kisses him, quickly, and says “Yeah, I really am.”

 

“So the videos aren’t weird?”

 

“It doesn’t bother me, Bits.” Jack reaches over and takes away the iPad, setting it on the table with Señor Bun. “And sometime I’ll explain that party to you. I know you overheard some of it--”

 

“Not on purpose!”

 

“I know that.” Jack shimmies down to lay his head on the pillow and tugs at Bitty until he does, too. Bitty lies next to him, stretches out one foot to brush against Jack’s shin, and doesn’t seem inclined to push the subject of that night any further. Jack runs a hand through the long hair at the top of Bitty’s head. “Bits?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Will you come see me in Providence before your semester starts?”

 

The smile Bitty gives him is bright and blinding. “Yes, of course.”

 

“Good,” Jack says. He leans in, kisses Bitty firmly, squeezes Bitty’s hip in his hand. “Good.”

 

They kiss again, longer this time, while their hands idly wander. Jack knows he could escalate it, if he wanted. He would love for Bitty to climb into his lap, aches to touch all the skin under the thin shirt and shorts Bitty is wearing. But he knows how nervous Bitty is about just sharing the bed, and he’s tired, and this is so  _ nice.  _ He doesn’t feel the need to do anything but kiss Bitty, touch his hair and his face and his neck. Jack hasn’t ever done anything this intimate, not that he can remember, and he likes it. 

 

“I’ve thought about this,” Bitty says after a moment. “Lying here like this with you.”

 

“Me too,” Jack says. “I’ve never thought about anyone as much as I think about you, Bits.”

 

“Oh, really?” Bitty’s eyes sparkle before the chirp even leaves his mouth. “You couldn’t possibly mean that you think about me more than you think of your mistress, hockey, now could you?”

 

“Lately? I’ve  _ definitely _ thought about you more than I’ve thought about Hockey.”

 

Bitty scoffs. “Jack,  _ please. _ You start playing for the  _ NHL _ this summer.”

 

“I know,” Jack murmurs. “I’m happy, don’t get me wrong. It’s everything I’ve ever worked for, and I’m nervous about it. Excited, definitely. I know when I go back to Providence and really start training, it’ll be real. I’ll be busy. It will be different,  _ everything  _ will be so different. I thought I would spend the summer before my first season… I don’t know. Not like this. But I’m glad it’s like this. I’m glad hockey isn’t the only thing I think about. I’m glad I think more of you, right now. It’s… I just like it. You’re so worried about putting pressure on me, but I think if I hadn’t spent all this time talking to you, if I hadn’t come here and didn’t have you coming to Providence to look forward to, I would be putting the pressure on myself. I still am, I guess, but not as much. I know it’s going to get intense. It’s  _ me _ . But you… you made me a better player at school, Bits. I think… I don’t think that will stop just because I graduated.”

 

Bitty turns his face into the pillow and says, muffled, “Lord.”

 

“What?”

 

“That was a nice thing to say,” Bitty tells Jack when he turns his face back out of the pillow. “You’ve changed a lot, Jack.”

 

“I know,” Jack says. “I. Um. I want to be better at the talking thing.”

 

“You are.”

 

“I’ll keep trying,” he promises, meaning it and feeling a little desperate. A tiny frisson of anxiety runs up and down his spine, but it doesn’t go past that, and he can still breathe. Bitty’s hand on his hip makes it so much easier for Jack to breathe right now. “So,” Jack says, aiming to lighten the mood, “What are we doing tomorrow?”

 

Bitty smiles, slow and soft and  _ pretty _ , and nuzzles into Jack’s shoulder. “Well, there’s the picnic…”

 

And Jack falls asleep to the sound of Bitty whispering the ins and outs of a Madison Fourth of July into his neck, the feel of Bitty’s hand brushing up and down his torso, and the faint scent of cinnamon that seems to cling to the sheets.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The porn you've all been waiting for.
> 
> Also: come see me on tumblr @ adventuresinsuburbia.tumblr.com


	4. Eric- There is something in your loving that tears down my walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, so many thanks to DoubleNegative for doing a swift and thorough beta on this. All remaining errors are totally my own dang fault. 
> 
> This chapter closes out this installment of what I anticipate to be at least a three part series! The next in the series is in progress and hopefully will be posted soon!
> 
> Thanks again for reading!

  
  


Eric is afraid that when Jack leaves Madison, he will miss him too much and will never get through the rest of the summer. He’s afraid, too, that when Jack leaves Madison, he will wake up to find that this entire weekend, that the entire summer so far has been a dream. Even as Jack has put so many of Eric’s worries to rest in just 24 short hours, Eric has added new ones to the pile. By the time the sun sets on the 4th, Eric can barely tell what he’s thinking anymore, so he gets them the hell out of Dodge as soon as he possibly can.

 

All day, he watches Jack take to the Independence Day traditions like a duck to water. He had thought, originally, that poor Jack would have to grin and bear it, deal with the picnic and all of Eric’s aunts, smile his way through all the football talk and the parade. But it turns out to be Eric who has to white-knuckle it through so much of the day. He flinches at every prying question into Jack’s career by people who have never seen a game of hockey in their lives. He jitters through the parade, wishing it would end already and wondering how in hell such a small town had three marching bands. He struggles to answer his aunt’s questions about school and his love life without letting his eyes flicker over to wherever Jack stands. 

 

Jack, on the other hand, has a blast. He talks with ease about his upcoming training schedule. He helps Eric’s father at the grill. He offers to help load the car to head into town. He wears an American flag sticker at the parade and offers to put Eric’s cousin Shelly’s toddler on his shoulders so she can see the floats and all three bands as they go by. He is sweet and solicitous to Eric’s Moomaw, helps her to a lawn chair in a prime spot, which just about  _ kills  _ Eric on the spot. Jack is a boy who charms people’s  _ grandmothers _ , who knew, and he grins over the shoulders of each aunt as Eric smiles-and-nods through every conversation.

 

After  _ hours _ of this at the cookout, then a location change from the afternoon cookout to the parade and fireworks in town, plus the jumble of his own thoughts, Eric decides he needs a break. He takes a look around the quieting crowd and decides enough is enough. 

 

“Mama,” he says, “I’m gonna take Jack on a little town tour, take a break for a while.”

 

His mother knits her brows at him. “You’re sure? Fireworks’ll be starting soon.”

 

“Yeah,” Eric replies, casting a glance in Jack’s direction. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure Jack could do with a little breather. We can catch the fireworks from somewhere closer to home, maybe.”

 

“Alright,” his mother smiles. “Your father has the keys to the truck. We’ll see you at home, baby.”

 

Later, in the truck, he tells Jack, “I’m not taking you on a tour. I have a better idea.”

 

Jack grins and says, “Wherever you want to go, Bits. I’m in.”

 

The field belongs to a farm that has been long unoccupied. The former owners were an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, who moved to Atlanta to live with their children after the upkeep got to be too much for them. The Gordons had let Eric pick peaches for pies from their small orchard when he was in high school. They still own the farm, and he doesn’t think they would mind his trespassing now, since he had always dropped off at least two pies a week for them. 

 

They’re parked as far as they can get from any road that runs along the property. Eric rests his head against Jack’s chest, Jack’s arm tight around his shoulders.

 

“This was a good day,” Jack says. “Thank you.”

 

Eric huffs. “Thank  _ you _ . This couldn’t have been easy for you. All those nosy people, and all the… Well. The Georgia of it all.”

 

Jack jostles him gently. “Come on, Bits. It was fun. And everyone was nice. Curious, not nosy.”

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Eric says. “I think I just wanted to get you alone all day.”

 

“Well, here I am,” Jack teases, brushing his nose down against Eric’s temple. 

 

Eric loves when he does stuff like that. It has been one day, and there are already little things Jack does to touch him that Eric just loves. He turns his face up and Jack kisses him, and then he hears the whistle of the first firework. 

 

Jack pulls away with a chuckle. “We kiss, and there are fireworks. Funny.”

 

“You--” Eric smacks Jack on the shoulder, laughing. He glances up at the sky. “That one was pretty.” 

 

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, and then turns Eric’s face back to kiss him again. 

 

This kiss progresses in a way none of the others have had the chance to do. They’re alone now, in the dark, with no one around to see or hear. They kiss until they’re panting, until Jack’s fingers are twisted in Eric’s hair and Eric’s hands have slipped under Jack’s t-shirt to run his nails across the skin at the base of his back. 

 

Jack pulls away, just a couple of inches, to say, “Bits? Can we?” 

 

It takes a moment for Erc to realize Jack’s nod is indicating the bed of the truck. “Yes,” he breathes, then clears his throat a little and says it again more firmly. “Yes.”

 

They end up on their sides at first, making out slowly under the exploding sky, but the heat just builds and builds, and soon Eric has gotten bold enough to roll them so he can straddle Jack’s hips. Jack has his hands pushed up under Eric’s shirt to his shoulders, so Eric just shrugs the rest of the way out of it. He grabs it out of Jack’s hand and tosses it to the end of the bed of the truck. 

 

Jack looks up at him intently, then reaches out to trace a finger along Eric’s collarbone. Eric shivers from the touch and the attention, unable to meet the intensity in Jack’s eyes for the moment. He tugs on the hem of Jack’s shirt in question. Jack answers by sitting up and stripping the shirt off himself, then pulling Eric close again for a hard kiss. The height difference is back with them sitting face to face like this, Jack’s head dipping down. But then Jack uses his hands on Eric’s ass to pull him up and into his lap, which is  _ fantastic _ , and Eric grinds down with a gasp. 

 

When they pull back a moment later, it’s so Jack can say, “Bits, we can stop anytime, we can stop now if you--”

 

“No,” Eric pants, “I mean. Jack, please. Touch me? Please?”

 

He feels so insanely needy, and a little embarrassed about it. But Jack wraps his arms around him and squeezes, pressing hot kisses into Eric’s neck and shoulders and chest. 

 

“Okay,” Jack says, “Yeah. I want to.”

 

And that’s how Eric has his dick touched by someone else for the very first time in the back of his father’s pick-up truck in the middle of a field under the most beautiful sky. 

 

He’s shocked at the pleasure that washes over him with the first stroke of Jack’s hand. It’s  _ nothing _ like when he does this himself, because he’s kneeling with his fly open and being held up by Jack’s other arm, with Jack’s lips and teeth on his earlobe, scraping his jaw, gentling over his neck. 

 

Eric, for his part, digs the fingers of one hand into Jack’s thigh and buries the other in Jack’s hair and moans into Jack’s mouth. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say, “I’m not gonna last, I--”

 

“Okay,” Jack interrupts. He does a squeeze and turn thing that makes Eric let out a gasp that stutters into a moan. “That’s okay. I want you to come, Bits. I want to make you--”

 

“Oh, my fucking  _ god _ ,” Eric shouts, because those words coming out of Jack’s mouth are too hot to withstand, and comes all over Jack’s hand so suddenly he sees stars. Jack murmurs him through it, kisses him gently, trails his lips over Eric’s eyelids and doesn’t mention that they’re a little damp with tears. 

 

“You’re gorgeous, Bits,” Jack says. “That was so hot.”

 

“That was  _ fast _ ,” Eric replies a little hysterically. “I didn’t mean to have that happen so fast.”

 

“So we’ll do it again,” Jack tells him. Eric vaguely registers that Jack just wiped his hand off on the corner of the blanket and makes a mental note to throw it in the laundry when they get back to the house. But he has more pressing matters to attend to right now and forces his orgasm-fogged brain back on track. 

 

“I’d like that,” he says to Jack, then tilts his head up for another kiss. “But I think it’s kind of your turn, don’t you?”

 

“Ah,” Jack sits back, pulling Eric with him. “Okay.”

 

So Eric kisses Jack and makes an executive decision and makes his first attempt at giving someone a blowjob. 

 

It’s literally the best and for a second also worst thing he’s ever done. He’s seen it in porn, obviously. He’s fantasized about doing it, and having it done to him. He hadn’t realized how powerful it would make him feel. He hadn’t predicted that he would be doing it for the first time with someone he has wanted this much for this long. Or who was this  _ hot _ , good lord. Eric is shocked that his mouth is watering before he even gets Jack out of his pants. But he’s also nervous, so he’s shaking a little bit. 

 

“You don’t have to,” Jack tells him, because he knows Eric’s never done it before, because Eric told him (dying of embarrassment) weeks ago. 

 

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t,” Eric replies. “Otherwise, I really, really… really want to suck your dick, Jack. So, do you want me to?”

 

“Fuck,” Jack says dumbly, “Yes. Just...I mean--”

 

Eric is already working on getting Jack’s shorts and underwear down his thighs. “I’ll be careful, and go slow.”

 

“Okay. I was gonna say, I’ll let you know when I’m close.”

 

Eric drops his head to laugh against Jack’s bare knee. “Good lord. Okay, sorry.”

 

And then he looks up and there is Jack’s cock, hard against his stomach, waiting for Eric to touch. 

 

“Wow,” Eric murmurs, reaching out and tracing a finger down its length. “Okay.”

 

He leans down and follows the path of his finger with his tongue. Jack draws in a sharp breath above him and that sends a thrill down Eric’s spine. He tries to remember everything he’s ever read about how to do this without completely botching it, and closes his mouth around the head, swirls his tongue down and around it. Jack groans, and so does Eric because this is… it’s awkward and weird and a little scary, but it’s also  _ hot _ , like everything has been with Jack tonight, and Eric’s been waiting for this for so long and it feels  _ right _ that this is how it’s happening. 

 

It’s not long before Jack says, “Bits, Bits, I’m so close. You should--”

 

And Eric, having figured out pretty much all the basics of the blowjob at this point, figures he can stop short at attempting to swallow and pulls his mouth off with a slight pop to replace it with his hand. He looks up at Jack, who is propped up on his elbows and looking down with darkened eyes. 

 

“Bits,” Jack breathes, hips pushing up into Eric’s hand, “you’re so amazing, I’ve wanted-- Bits--”    
  
Eric watches in fascination as Jack comes, flicking his eyes from Jack’s face to his own hand and the pearls of come dripping through his fingers. “Oh my god, Jack.”

 

He pulls his hands away after gentling his strokes, and is sort of contemplating whether it would be weird to taste, but Jack pushes himself up and they kiss breathlessly as the last shakes from Jack’s orgasm wear away.

 

“The fireworks are over,” Eric murmurs to Jack’s cheek a few moments later. “I want to stay here. Literally, I want to stay here forever, but…”

 

“Yeah,” Jack sighs. “I know. Here, let’s get dressed.”

 

They clean their hands as much as they can, and Jack helps Eric on with his shirt and zips his jeans for him. Eric tugs Jack’s tee over his head and kisses his nose and smooths his hair and laughs helplessly at the surprise on Jack’s face when he does it. 

He wants to tell Jack he loves him. That this was amazing, that all he has ever wanted is to do what they just did with someone he loves, and who loves him back. Eric really wants to know if Jack loves him back, if they’re there yet. But he couldn’t possibly ask such a thing, so he doesn’t. He just tips his face up and receives a tender kiss for his trouble, and says, “I hate that you’re leaving tomorrow.”

 

“Me too,” Jack says. “But you’ll come to Providence, yeah?”

 

“Mr. Zimmermann, wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

 

*

 

Back at the house, before they take the steps up to the front door, Jack says, “Bits, I need to say something.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Stop worrying,” Jack says, firmly and clearly. “I know that’s rich coming from me, but… can you try and trust that I want you, that I’ll keep wanting you? That my career is important, but it’s not the only important thing? I’m not going to freak out, and it seems like you’re waiting for me to do that. I’m not.”

 

Eric pauses, thinks on that for a second, and stops himself from expressing his utter shock at how good Jack is getting at this sort of thing. Imagine that. Communication from Jack Zimmermann. 

 

“I can try to worry less,” he concedes. “If you promise me that you’ll tell me if you ever feel like you  _ are  _ freaking out. Or feeling overwhelmed. Or anything.”

“Deal,” Jack says without hesitation. “And I want you to tell me if you need me. Or if you need anything. Junior year can be tough-” 

 

“I’m sure the NHL is tougher, Jack.”

 

“ _ Stop, _ ” Jack says, a little snappish, a little bit of his Captain-voice bleeding in. Eric startles but holds Jack’s gaze, watches Jack’s face in the light cast by the porch lamps. “You’re important, Bits. Okay? I care about you, I want to be  _ good _ for you.”

 

“Okay,” Eric says quietly, a little knocked over by Jack at the moment. “Thank you.”

 

“Come on,” Jack says, “Let’s go inside.”

 

“Yeah,” Eric murmurs, and since his parents aren’t home yet, he reaches up on tiptoes and kisses Jack on the cheek. “Jack? I’m so happy.”

 

“Me too,” Jack whispers back, and turns his face to press his lips to Eric’s. 

 

Eric thinks,  _ I love this boy,  _ for the first time knowing that he just might get to say it out loud some day, maybe even soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next installment: PROVIDENCE.
> 
> Visit me on tumblr adventuresinsuburbia.tumblr.com


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